The Tale of a Cat
by Daae Angel
Summary: Home was supposed to be a place where you were loved, where you could feel safe and warm, wasn't it? So why did things end up the way they did? Following Merle in the years after the Great War.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of the characters therein. I am only dabbling in their universe for a little while to tell a story.

The Tale of A Cat: Prologue

"Tell me a story Mama." Merle looked up from the letter she was penning to regard the little girl standing in front of her. She was young with pink hair, dark eyes and a pleading look on her face. Her hands were playing with a fold of the nightdress she was wearing, worrying the edges into a small fray.

"What kind of story?"

"A long one! About the Lady Hitomi." Merle smiled a little sadly. Ever since little Varie had learned in school about the relationship the Lady Hitomi had with Merle, she had been relentless in her pursuit of information. Lady Hitomi was a legend among children these days, which led Merle to believe that the standard of legends was going down. Back when she and Lord Van were children, their legends were of great heroes of the past, not of girls who dressed like boys and caused more trouble than they were worth. Merle wished that Hitomi were here to set everyone straight. Merle rolled her eyes; like that would help. If Hitomi were here, everyone would be so _happy_, and the legend would only grow, no matter how many times Hitomi would say it was nothing. Oh well. At least one child in Fanelia would get the true story of Hitomi Kanzaki. Merle narrowed her eyes at this child.

"Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes Mama."

"Brushed your hair?"

"Yes Mama."

"Washed your paws?"

The little girl giggled. "I don't have paws!"

Merle grinned openly.

"Just checking. You can never be too sure you know."

Varie stood beside her mother, with a look of intense concentration on her face, one that Merle knew from years of exposure to it meant that the little girl was trying desperately not to fidget. To be patient, whatever that meant to a child. It was the same look that Van used to give to his advisors when he became the Crown Prince of Fanelia.

"Ok, I'll tell you a story. The Lady Hitomi was actually a girl who was easy to provoke. Her face would turn the colour of a tomato if you made her angry, which I did as often as I could just to see it. You should have seen it, it was hilarious, there was this one time I stole her…" Merle trailed off as she noticed Varie's young lips forming into a tight pout. "What?"

"That's not a story." Varie's eyes narrowed in the precise way that Merle's sometimes did when she wasn't getting her way.

"What? Of course it is. Don't you want to hear about the Lady Hitomi?"

"I want to hear the story."

Merle sighed. She knew what Varie was asking for. She wanted the story about the great Lady Hitomi, Saviour of Gaea. Merle hated that story. It made Van and Hitomi heroes. It made Merle herself seem larger than life. Worst of all, the popular story made it seem like there was a contented ending, if not a happy one.

"Kid, I'll give you a story. It will be a true story, one you should pay close attention to. That means no fidgeting." Varie's head snapped up guiltily, and she stilled her hands in her lap. "I'm not going to lie to you. Hitomi Kanzaki was a real person with real hopes and real flaws. She was even known to have a bad hair day now and then."

Varie looked up at her mother with wide eyes.

"No!"

"Yes!" Merle grinned; this was going to be fun. "When I first met Hitomi Kanzaki she was a scrawny little girl, not even five rotations older than you are right now. I thought she was a boy, escaped from an asylum. Her clothes were ridiculous, not practical for the weather at all. Balgus and Rhum both treated her like a lady, which got me ticked off right away. I had lived in the palace all my life, and was treated as a little girl, one that was just the teensiest bit annoying, and she waltzes in and receives the royal treatment. Just who did she think she was? Worse than that, she didn't seem to know who Lord Van was, treated him like an _equal_. Like there was nothing special about him at all. Well, I warned her right off that she wasn't to go near him."

"Mama?" The voice was cautious.

"Yes?"

"My teacher always starts stories with 'Once upon a time'."

"Are you questioning me little girl?" Merle got down on all fours and started prowling towards Varie, hissing and spitting like a dragon. It was an old game, one they had played countless times when Varie was younger, one that Merle and Van had played when all they needed was each other. Varie shrieked and ran to the corner like the damsel in distress she was supposed to be. She stood there uncertainly, looking awkward in her own skin.

"I'm a little old for games Mama."

"We all need to play. I'm twenty-eight rotations: ancient compared to you, and I still play."

"But you're a cat. Cats are supposed to be playful."

"What's that supposed to mean? You better watch yourself kiddie, or there will be no story, once upon a time or otherwise." Varie gulped.

"I'll be good! I promise!" Merle stifled a grin at the sight of the little girl, wide eyed in front of her.

"Ok then. Have a seat." Merle sat down on the plush chesterfield in her living quarters. Varie scrambled up next to her, not nearly as high of a scramble as it used to be, Merle thought with nostalgia. She was growing up so fast, unaware of the dangers of the world and the responsibilities it would hold for her.

Varie curled up close to her mother, in an impulsive move that was distinctly feline. 'Well,' thought Merle, 'Maybe she isn't growing up that fast after all.' She placed her furry arms around the small form and began her tale.

"Once upon a time in a land similar to Gaea, but very different, there was a girl. At first glance she seemed to be a plain girl with steady green eyes and dark blonde hair. Her face was unremarkable, save for the frequent occasions in which she gave in to temper or any other of the passionate emotions. On those occasions, the girl's face flamed with an inner light, both beautiful and volatile.

Not much is known about the Lady Hitomi before she came to Gaea. Some believe that she was sent as a Priestess of the Mystic Moon, some believe that she is a goddess who comes to us in times of need. But the Lady Hitomi had a family on the Mystic Moon. She hardly ever spoke about them, but every time she looked into the sky you could tell that she missed them fiercely.

One day, Hitomi was taking part in a competition, like our Tournaments. She was one of the runners, even though she was a girl. She once told me that the whole team was girls, but I think she was telling a tall tale. Anyway, she was running in her race, when all of a sudden she ran right through Lord Van."

"She ran through the King?"

"He wasn't the King yet, silly. And she didn't know it was Lord Van anyway."

"I bet she was scared."

"So scared she passed out. She woke up, and found out that no one else had seen the boy she had run into. She was told that she fainted during the race."

"That would be weird."

"Very weird. Everyone thought she was crazy. But a few days later she was running again and Lord Van showed up for real this time. They started yelling at each other right away."

"But the story says they fell in love!" Varie was indignant.

"They didn't figure that out until much later. At first they couldn't stand each other. Lord Van was hunting the dragon for his king-making, and Hitomi just ran smack into him. Both of them were pretty peeved, not to mention the fact that they thought it was pretty weird that the other had just appeared out of no where. But then the dragon came, and Hitomi and her friends freaked out." Merle watched the emotions play over the younger girl's face, knew she was deciding which question was the most important to ask.

"Her friends were there?"

"Oh yeah… Yes, her friends were there. One she was practically in love with and the other was her best friend."

"But she's supposed to be in love with the King."

"You know what, I don't think I'm going to tell anymore today." Merle stretched and gave a fake yawn. She rolled over on the chesterfield and pretended to snore. She heard Varie gasp, and then felt small hands shaking her back.

"No! I'll be good." Merle turned her head towards Varie and quirked an eyebrow. Well, she tried to, but it never seemed to work, and both her eyebrows quirked. Merle felt this ruined the effect, but managed to get a flush out of the little girl. "I promise."

Merle resumed her former position, and her storytelling voice.

"Alright then. Where was I? Right, the dragon. It showed up, and Hitomi and her friends had never seen a dragon before. Lord Van says it wasn't all that big, but Hitomi said it was huge, and I don't really know which one was telling the truth. Anyway, Lord Van was fighting the dragon, and Hitomi suddenly saw that if he stayed where he was, that he would die. She warned him about it, and she saved his life. Lord Van killed the dragon and took its energist like I knew he would. But then a pillar of light surrounded him and Hitomi and transported them to just outside Arzaz."

"But that's near here! Near Fanelia!"

"That's right. They came to Fanelia right after that, and that's when Lord Van was made King of Fanelia."

"And that's when the War started, right?" Varie's eyes held the excitement of one who had never seen war; who only thought of the adventure and romance in the stories she heard and not of the pain and suffering that went along with it. Merle hoped desperately that Varie would learn that war was not an adventure without having to experience it firsthand.

"The war did start that day, but you'll learn about that in school. The war was terrible Varie, don't ever think it was exciting, or noble. One man thought that if he could give everyone what they wished for, then there would be no more fighting. But he was wrong." Merle's voice sounded strained, and Varie's eyes became serious. Merle looked at her daughter and smiled. "But the war ended because Lord Van and Hitomi chose to love each other instead of fight. Love is very powerful you know. Just as powerful as your wishes."

"But she went back to the Mystic Moon."

Merle nodded. "Yes, she went back." Varie was silent for a moment.

"I wish I could meet her." Merle held the girl a little bit tighter.

"Keep wishing Kiddie. You never know what your wishes can accomplish."

They sat in silence for a long time, mother and daughter. When Merle was certain that Varie had fallen asleep, she picked her up to take her to bed. At 10 rotations, Varie was still small for her age, but Merle wasn't worried. Children grew at their own pace, and Merle had stayed quite small throughout her adoloescence.

"Mama?" Varie whispered just as Merle was carrying the lamp out of the room.

"Yes?"

"Did you like the Lady Hitomi?" Merle was quiet for a moment. It was no secret in Fanelia that Merle had been very jealous of the girl from the Mystic Moon.

"I did, and that's what made everything so hard."

"What?"

"Go to sleep. Count mice if you have to. I won't have you falling asleep in school tomorrow."

"Goodnight Mama."

"Goodnight Varie. Sweet dreams."

Merle sat at her desk that night staring listlessly at the unfinished letter on her desk, wondering what made everything turn out this way. It just wasn't fair.

She looked out her window and saw the Mystic Moon hanging full and ripe in the sky, a brilliant orb of blue, white and green. She knew that somewhere in the palace, He was staring at the same moon.

"Oh Hitomi."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _This story is to start about three months after Hitomi left. The prologue will occur within the story, but not for a while. I have a plot in mind. The rating is for later chapters. Thank you to Suils Saifir for my very first review! To answer your question vaguely, not everything is as it appears to be initially. The story will grow._

Chapter 1:

The air was still and crisp in the way that early mornings have a tendency to be. A little more chill and dark than was normal for this time of day meant that the labourers of the proud city of Fanelia were clinging to the last few minutes of warmth before venturing out.

The city was not completely devoid of life. Down a dim alleyway a haggard looking man dressed in rags was trudging along. A mother of five was taking down the laundry she had forgotten the previous night. There were a few rodents here and there scurrying along tiredly; trying to escape the notice of their vigilant predators. And on the very highest roof of a decrepit looking palace was a cat.

The Cat was contemplating the city with eyes that shone against darkness. She could pinpoint locations of the rodents, the mother and the man who were awake with two of her natural born gifts: scent and sight. She sighed for their hardships, and sighed for her own.

The ruins of Fanelia were proving to be far more difficult than originally thought by engineers and architects. When the city burned, no one realized just how much was lost. Not only were the homes of the people decimated beyond any familiarity; but all the history that had been painstakingly recorded over the years was lost as well.

The blueprints and geometrical sketches of the city had been incinerated. This was causing major upsets in the rebuilding phase. Sewer systems that had been abandoned in times past for newer versions meant that a digging crew could hit upon an area that was not viable for the foundations they were trying to lay. There were tunnels underneath the city that at some time in the past were used as an escape route; for whom no one knew. Burrowing dragons created areas that were not stable, and every day there was a new collapse. Workers had been hurt both trying to build, and attempting to save their comrades from a fall-in. Families who tried to take shelter in the ruins often ended up injured in one way or another. There had been a number of deaths. The city was hazardous; a danger to all of its inhabitants.

The records of address, of ownership, of citizenship were all gone. People had been spending more time arguing over whose place was whose in the unrecognizable heap of their former district than salvaging the tattered remains of their homeland. A group of vagrants had formed, called themselves the Pillagers. They stole anything they could find of value from the ruins. They terrorized inhabitants for their belongings, meagre as they were. Crime was an easy profession in this time of social unrest, and they accomplished this to the most gruesome of results.

Fanelia was no longer a happy place. It was destitute, it was impoverished.

When the pillar of light carried their saviour into the heavens, the people of Fanelia were infused with the drive to work, to rebuild their homes. They optimistically began the process of healing, unaware of the pitfalls they would encounter, the relapses in grief.

That pillar of light had left over three moon cycles ago.

Winter was looming over them; less than two moons away.

Where was their King, their leader in all this? He was working among them, slaving away every day to keep his inner turmoil at bay. He was fighting the same losing battle as the people, trying desperately to solve all the problems on his own. He slept among them, in one of the shelters erected for those who either wished or needed to utilize them. He had enacted laws in an effort to keep his city in working order. They included the necessity to turn over all scavenged valuables, so that they could be sold to neighbouring countries in exchange for much needed resources.

The Pillagers claimed that he was using the valuables to his own gain.

The cat on the roof watched as sunlight shyly began to stroke the tops of the city she called home. A profound sense of sadness at the strange beauty wracked through Merle's small frame. Tears slid down the fur on her face, clinging in droplets there. The sunlight caught on them as well, glinting small slivers of light off her face. She wept for her home, her lost family. She wept for those who had been lost in the war and those who had survived. She wept for Hitomi and for Van and their loss. When she had wept for everyone else, she began to weep for herself, great loud sobs that startled the nesting birds on the roof into flight. The sight of these birds sweeping through the air halted Merle in her thoughts of sadness. If the birds were up, then everyone else would be very soon.

Taking a deep breath, one that shocked her lungs with the chill of it, Merle composed herself. It wouldn't do for Lord Van to see her like this. He needed her to be strong for the both of them, to be happy in the face of all adversity. Merle was accustomed to being whatever Lord Van needed. He was her very best friend, someone she regarded as higher than family. All their lives, Merle had needed Van. She needed him to stick up for her, to tell her everything was alright or not to cry, not to worry. Now that he needed her, she wanted to be the rock that he had been. She wanted to be strong. Strong cats don't cry. Cats hate water anyway, so crying is worse for them than human people.

Merle took one last look over the dishevelled city, then made her way down to join in on the projects for renewal.

"Merle! Where have you been? Give me a hand with the breakfast, would you?" The voice rang out over the sleeping bodies laying in rows in the shelter. Merle squinted against the dim lighting to see Gertrude, a plump matronly woman stoking the cook stove fire for breakfast. Every morning one of Fanelia's widows would cook a communal breakfast for the scrawny young boys and elderly men who were Fanelia's work force. There were few men in their prime that had escaped relatively unscathed through the war.

Merle hurried across the dirt floor, agilely avoiding all errant limbs in her path. She put on an apron and proceeded to stir the pot of grey goop on the stove. She wrinkled her nose.

"This mush seems more...mushy…today."

Gertrude never stopped her hands from moving; getting out the bowls from the crates where they were packed each night as she replied in a low voice; "We're running low on supplies. Our breakfast isn't going to last more than one moon cycle. Our dried meat and flour is going to last even less. If we don't send someone to trade soon, we'll starve!"

Merle stared at the older woman in despair. Another setback? How were they going to rebuild Fanelia if they couldn't feed their workers? There were only about fifty of them in the first place, if they sent five away for a trading excursion, their production would definitely suffer. Not to mention the risk of the Pillagers attacking the trading party either on the way out or back in for their goods.

Gertrude turned a little towards Merle; her hands now busy kneading the dough that would be their noonday meal.

"I wouldn't fret little girl. We're not going to starve today. Something will work out or it won't. But there's no reason to be worrying all _them_," one flour painted hand indicated the length of the room, "about it all. It's no good for morale you know."

Merle pursed her lips but said nothing. She knew that Gertrude was right. Instead she tried to think of alternative ways to get food. This would be about harvest time for farmers, and many plants in the forest would be ripe with berries. Some of the earlier ones would be past. There could be some roots that were edible, and types of mushrooms; if you knew which ones weren't poisonous. Maybe they could send a search party to barter with farmers? She was so absorbed in her musings that she didn't notice the slight form creeping up beside her.

Her vision suddenly went dark and Merle hissed at the feel of hands over her eyes. She clawed at them, and screeched until they released her.

"You snot-nosed little brat! You're going to pay for this! I'm going to –" Merle trailed off in shock as she took finally saw her accused. He stood there with the faintest of grins on his young face, but even that trace of humour was enough for Merle to melt into a puddle more fluid even than the breakfast mush. She admonished herself instantly for thinking anything of the sort. She thought she understood the meaning of the phrase "old habits die hard."

"I'm waiting to hear what the fearsome Cat is going to do punish me with." The King of Fanelia stood expectantly for a moment. Merle knew what he was expecting, and she knew it would kill her just a little, but she threw her arms around him like always. Anything to make him happy.

"Lord Van! You're awake! Did you sleep well? Do you want some breakfast?" She prattled along easily, keeping up a cheery disposition. He needed that. As she was rambling, she noted that his hair was combed today and that his eyes had purple crescents underneath them. She saw that he hadn't sent his pants to get cleaned since he fell in the mud the other day. She saw that his hope was waning, but that his resolve was as strong as ever. Merle wanted to hug him and tell him that it was all going to be just fine. But cats don't lie, so instead she smiled for him. The others were starting to get up now, men and women who each looked exhausted.

Miraculously, there was cheerful conversation at the breakfast table, peppered with children's laughter and the sight of them running up and down the shelter, pretending to by Gymelefs or Princesses or Dragons. Merle was heartened by this; it seemed that even in these bleak times there could be joy in the world.

Eventually everyone started grouping off into what they were going to do for the day. The families that opted not to stay in the shelters, but in the city itself, showed up and volunteered their time.

Van stood in front of them, outlining their plans for the day. One group would be fortifying the roof of the church just across the street; insulating the building for winter. Supplies were sparse, so another group was assigned to scavenge the city for anything they could use. The women who were able-bodied had weeks ago given up propriety; they were working alongside the men, helping with the physical labour as much as they were able. The older women, the injured men and women were all assigned to keep the shelters tidy, liveable; and to cook, do laundry and any other tasks they could handle.

Even the children were involved. With the Pillagers in the city, they couldn't go far, so older children were to mind younger children while making their tasks into a game. They were to help clear the buildings that had already been rebuilt of all small debris that was left. They were to pick up any nails they could find and add them to the supply closet. Every nail was priceless at this point.

With winter less than two moons away, they had only completed five buildings, all on the same block.

As Merle scampered across the roof of the church, she worried. She threw herself into the physical labour, trying to distract herself from all thoughts of despair. She was invaluable as a member of the crew, being able to balance easily on the beams and carry supplies and instructions to each worker. Here and there she would pause and assist someone with placing a piece of lumber, or get out her hammer and drive the nails into the boards herself. The movements made her muscles ache, reminding her of the weeks gone by. But every nail she ground away at helped her anger and her worry subside little by little.

"What are you grinning about, little lady?" The burly man who was currently working next to Merle was mirroring her facial expression.

"I'm not sure. The work seems to help my temper." Merle was shocked as he began to laugh. "Peter! Are you laughing at me? I can scratch your eyes out you know!"

"I'm not laughing at you!" Peter continued to guffaw, wiping tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. "You just discovered what every man learned as a little boy."

"What?" Puzzled, Merle looked up from the slats of the new roof that were holding her attention.

"That physical activity helps with anger. Why do you think guys are always so aggressive? Or so focused on becoming good soldiers and the like?"

Merle frowned a little, pondering that thought. An idea came to her, with the memory of a tale Hitomi had told her; the one about Naria.

"Do you think Cats would be good at swordplay?" She expected Peter to laugh at her again, to say something about the men taking care of the women. She was surprised when he sat back thoughtfully considering her question.

"I reckon that Cats would be very fearsome soldiers. Cats always have a lot more passion than the rest of us, and are quick to anger. The passion would help in the development of swordplay, but the anger would have to be worked on. A soldier can't be working on impulse, but on training."

Merle thought about what he said for a minute.

"I know that Cats have pretty big tempers. But we're loyal too, that's got to count for _something_, right?" The hammering never ceased as Peter answered her.

"Sure Cats are loyal, but usually only to one person. To make a good soldier, the Cat would have to be loyal to the right person: their general for example." He looked at Merle and winked. "Or their King."

Merle refused to blush. She was not ashamed of her affection or where it lay. She tossed her head in apparent nonchalance.

"I was just wondering, that's all."

"Sure you were. Pass me that bucket of nails there, will ya?" They worked together in silence until the bell rang for lunch. Merle jumped up instantly and launched herself gracefully off the beams toward the ground.

"Hey! Catgirl, wait for an old man will you?" Peter's voice rang out from the rafters. Merle squinted as she looked upwards; the sun was nearly overhead, blinding her vision of Peter. He wasn't really an old man, Merle thought. Maybe old enough to be the father of someone Merle or Van's age, but not as old as some of their workers. She played along.

"Hurry up old man! All the food will be gone by the time you get there." She squinted upwards again. "Peter?"

"BOO!" The deep voice resonated right next to Merle's eardrum. She hissed.

"Why you little…I'm gonna get you for that!" She took off after Peter who had wisely begun to run like mad away from the catgirl. She caught up to him after he had surrounded himself with children.

"If you're going to hide among kittens, I don't really think you're worth my time." She turned away, grinning as she saw the children beginning to pester Peter for rides on his back, or to be tossed up in the air. His panicked look was enough to assure Merle that it was an adequate punishment.

"Merle!" She turned, knowing that voice like her own.

"Lord Van!" Rushing to embrace him, Merle noted the amused stares of the lunch crowd with an inner _humph!_ What did they matter anyway? Couldn't she suffocate her best friend with affection in peace? "What's wrong Lord Van?"

"Nothing. I just want to make a trip into the Castle, to see what kind of things survived the war." Merle looked at him suspiciously. Van had never made any suggestions for the castle or its contents. He said it was not as important as the homes of the people. His dark eyes met her pale ones, and he seemed to be pleading with her for something. She knew that she could never deny those eyes, and smiled.

"Oh, please Lord Van, can I help? I can climb to a lot of the areas that might be blocked off." He looked sceptical for a moment, but Merle knew that this was his intention all along.

"I suppose. If you feel up to it." Merle tightened her grip on him for a moment before releasing.

"Hooray! Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going!" She was eager to spend some time alone with her best friend, to assess him and coddle him.

"Uh, Merle?"

"What?"

"Don't you think we should eat first?" Then Merle did blush, a soft pink barely visible beneath her bright orange fur.

"Oh yeah…" He laughed, and she felt a little less embarrassed. He deserved to laugh.

Merle ate her meal with record speed, ignoring all the rules of manners that she had painstakingly learned at the hands of her childhood nurse. She sat impatiently, rocking back and forth in her chair and fiddling with her hair as Van ate his food meticulously slow.

Finally he finished, and Merle scampered out of the shelter to wait for him. A few moments later he appeared, wearing a small burlap pack, his sword fastened around his waist.

"What's in th-"

"Race you to the castle!" He cut her off and began to sprint. Merle waited a moment, then began her pursuit. On all fours, she could easily outrun any human for short distances. But as Hitomi had proved to her, it was more difficult to run upright, because of the air resistance, whatever that was.

Merle raced Van staying upright. As they neared the castle where she had spent her early morning, Merle knew that she could overtake her best friend and win. Instead she feigned a cramp, and crashed into him.

"Hah! A King beats a Cat in a race! Who would have thought?" Van crowed, glee apparent on his young features. Merle grinned inwardly. 'Boys are so dense sometimes,' she thought, immediately followed by an argument that Lord Van could not possibly be dense. He _was_ Lord Van after all.

"It's not a big deal," Merle insisted. It really wasn't. That didn't stop Van from doing a very interesting victory dance. Interesting for Lord Van would have been ridiculous for anyone else in Merle's eyes.

"I beat you, I beat you!" He chanted. Merle grinned. She had no idea what was making him act like a little boy again, but she decided she liked it. As he continued chanting, Merle's grin began to transform into something just a little more mischievous.

"Maybe you beat a Cat, but I happen to know a little girl that could outrun a King." Van stopped chanting. Merle's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't worry about it." His demeanour had changed completely, and he was serious once more.

"But Lord Van, "

"Drop it Merle."

Merle's heart sunk. She had only meant to cheer him up and somehow accomplished the complete opposite. It had been three moon cycles now, and he still did not want to speak about the love of his life. Didn't he realize that Merle hurt too? Hitomi had been her friend, at least at the end. She had stolen Van's heart, something that Merle had been trying to do for years. Merle knew it must be worse for Van, but she thought they might share that pain.

They walked along in silence, Merle barely noticing her surroundings. She had already thoroughly explored the palace in the evenings and early mornings. The layers of dust on the crumbling walls and pillars made for an eerie veil to a once joyful castle. Merle sometimes thought of the building as a person, one that had become old, invalid and introspective. The quiet held a certain solace for her. Now she could feel her face drooping, her mind fading into her surroundings.

They reached what Merle suspected was Van's goal. It was the training room where countless hours had been spent; Van training with Balgus and Merle watching the boy she loved become frustrated over and over again. But she had always been able to encourage him when it was over.

Van unsheathed his sword and began to run through basic exercises. Remembering her earlier conversation with Peter, Merle paid closer attention to this familiar routine. She tried to etch the movements into her mind. It was more difficult than she thought. After years of memorizing his face and moods, now she had to watch his body. It was still young, but hard and used from battle. Merle began to think strange thoughts about that form, ones that caused her to alternate between openly gaping and blush furiously before turning away. She was grateful for the bright colouring she had inherited from her mother. What was that tightening in her stomach? She briefly considered going to a healer, but then scoffed at the idea of a Cat becoming ill.

"Lord Van?" Her voice was soft, as it usually was when it was just him and her. He looked at her warily, and another pang of guilt shot through her. "I was just – well, I was talking to Peter today, and I –"

"If he asked you to marry him, you better have told him no." Merle gaped.

"Wh-what?"

"He's too old for you. We're too young to get married anyway." Merle's tail tensed and bristled as it usually did before she lost her temper.

"What do you mean?! That's not what I was going to say! And I am not too young for anything Lord Van!" Her cheeks flushed, and she was suddenly and inexplicably fascinated with the woven mats beneath her feet. Getting angry with Van was something she just didn't _do_. A strange sound emanated from his direction. A shy glance up, and Merle could see his shoulders twitching just a little.

"Are you laughing at me Lord Van?" She stalked just a little closer to him, her intended game, her prey.

"No," he answered, trying to keep his voice the usual aloof that he reserved for foreign dignitaries. His eyes were closed, and she knew she had just one chance…

"Gotcha!" She shrieked, landing with all the feline grace she possessed upon his back and promptly began to tickle him senseless. His open laughter was the best medicine she could ever take. Eventually he turned on her and her giggles and shrieks echoed through the ghostly ruins of Fanelia's castle. Finally, Merle pinned him to the floor.

"I win!" She crowed.

"Nothing so fearsome as a Cat." Van observed, before pushing her to the side. He reached for the burlap sack he had brought along. His words mirrored Peter's from earlier, and Merle remembered.

"Lord Van, the talk I had with Peter wasn't about _marriage_," she said the word with disgust, "it was about Cats." She accepted the piece of bread that Van pulled out of the sack and began chewing with vigour.

"Oh?" He looked up with mild curiosity. Merle took a deep breath, nervous.

"I was wondering…doyouthinkIcouldlearnswordplay?" She instantly began playing with her nail file, diligently sharpening her claws for several moments before she looked up. "Lord Van?"

He was looking at her like he had never seen her before; like she was a strange and new entity. That look chilled Merle. He shook his head.

"No Merle."

She dropped her file, dejected. So that was that, then. 'Oh well,' she thought, 'at least I tried.' She continued to eat her food in peace. One thought nagged her at the back of her head, nudging. It was a familiar thought, but in an unfamiliar place. Anger? At Lord Van? Surely not!

And yet…if it had been anyone else, she would have argued and hissed until she got her way. And this was important! It could mean the life or death of one or more Fanelian citizens, Merle included. She took a deep breath.

"Why not?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, deliberating before answering.

"I don't want you to have to protect yourself. You shouldn't have to fight for your life like that. Let the soldiers do the fighting. Let us protect you." Merle saw the flaw in that at once.

"But Lord Van! You can't protect me all the time! What if all the trained soldiers are killed? What will happen to me then?" She stared at him hard, in a way she had used on everyone except him. It hurt her to fight him. But she had to. To protect him, she would have to fight him on this one, little thing.

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You're right Merle. I can't protect you forever. However much I might want to." His smile was so sad then that Merle wanted to throw her arms around him and retract her arguments, her request, and just let things go back to how they used to be. Against her very nature, she stood her ground. When the sad smile quirked up just a little on the left side, Merle knew she had won.

"Hooray! Wooohooo!!" She did a series of vaults and cartwheels, elated to have gotten her way. She showed off, just a little with her gymnastic abilities when she noticed him watching her with an amused smile on his face. "Can we start now?" She questioned eagerly once her antics had slowed down.

"No."

"But Lord V-" She began to protest.

"Merle, I promise you now that I will aid you in learning the sword. But not now. Not today. Please?" Merle looked into his dark amber eyes, and knew the reason he had asked her to accompany him to the castle. He was hurting. He needed her.

And she was his, of her own choosing.


	3. Past and Present

_A/N: Thanks once again to reviewers: Suils Saifir and Lil' Dinky. I know both of you asked if Van was Varie's father...but I don't really want to answer because of the way the plot will play out. If I say yes or no, it would change the way the plot is looked at. It's not that it's not important, and it's definately a good question. But I want the plot to speak for itself. After all, I am working mainly in the timeline when Merle is 14. Varie won't even become a question for several years in the story. But I can confirm that she is only half Cat. Hence the no paws thing. I hope this chapter will help explain why Merle's daughter might be named after Van's mother. _

_Anyway...This is going to be a fairly long story according to my outline. A few twists and turns along the way. It might start to take me longer to update, because of University's iron grip upon me. But I will try!_

_I hope you all enjoy it!_

Chapter 2:

Days passed, strung together only by the sleep cycles that Merle knew were not normal or healthy for her. A Cat needed naps and frequent ones at that. She had never been one for sleeping at night either. The night was her sanctuary, the time when her blood coursed hot through her veins; when her instincts turned to the hunt. Each day her muscles ached from work, but every time she started to whine or complain, she would see the tiredness in everyone's eyes. They were all losing hope.

Van hadn't had time to teach her any swordplay yet. There had been another raid, closer to their re-building this time. Another family had fled their makeshift shelter to come and stay with the group. The Pillagers were becoming ruthless, resorting to physical violence to get what they believed to be their right. As King, Van had put together a squad of men to patrol the perimeter of the shelter at all times. Having a guard meant that the most able-bodied were often very exhausted.

Merle spent her evenings pretending to snooze while she was really listening to the conversations of the workers.

"D'you think he has a plan?"

"- so little accomplished –"

"- think it's time to leave, there's nothing here for us."

"- lost cause…"

These furtive whispers clung to Merle's heart like children scared in the night. She played them over and over again, rotating between feelings of rage and pity for the people she spent so much time with.

One morning, before anyone else was awake, Merle saw Van staring listlessly into the morning fire, poking at it cathartically. She decided it was time to take action.

"Lord Van?" She began tentatively.

"Merle." He barely acknowledged her, preferring to take inventory of each and every twig in the flames.

"Lord Van, this isn't working." He remained silent. "The workers are tired and losing hope. We don't have enough food for them and –"

"You don't think I know that?!" He snapped. His eyes met hers and she saw the raw intensity in them, fear mingled with anger. "I'm trying to rebuild my country, and look – only fifty people come forward to help. Fifty! Traders don't come by, how can we barter? How, Merle?"

Merle could feel her bottom lip trembling and captured it with her teeth to stop the weakness. The anger she knew wasn't meant for her, but it hurt all the same. His eyes softened.

"I didn't mean to snap at you." Her eyes narrowed, blood growing hot.

"But you did. You're right, we only have fifty people. But fifty will eat all our food in a few weeks, and what then? Lord Van, we need to plan. It's starting to get cold."

"I don't know what to do…" he whispered. Instantly the catgirl was at his side, pulling him into a furry orange embrace. He looked so young, so vulnerable.

"It's you, Lord Van. The people will follow you anywhere. You need to talk to them. It'll all work out, you'll see." Watching his face, she could see a faint smile quirking the left side of his lips.

"You and Hitomi. Always the optimists." _He said her name!_ Merle was in shock, but only for a moment. He hadn't spoken of her willingly in ages.

"Are you putting me in the same category as that scrawny girl?" She demanded teasingly, testing her limits on the subject.

"No. Never." He answered quickly and seriously. Merle tried not to let her heart plummet to her feet. She already knew where his affections lay, so why torment herself with false hope? He was still her very best friend, after all, she had no reason to be disappointed.

Van seemed to be deliberating for a moment.

"I need your advice. What do you think we should do?" Merle was taken aback. She had always been there for her friend for personal matters, but never been involved with matters of national importance. Beast People were not generally considered to hold the mental capacity for such things outside of tribe politics. It was part of the stereotypes on Gaea; there was great animosity between the beast people and the full-blooded humans. The beast people had lived in the wilderness, keeping away from cities entirely until around 100 sun cycles ago, if the records in Asturia and Basram were accurate.

Then Merle paused. She had some ideas, but Lord Van was the king, and who was she to order him around? But he was looking at her seriously and she could not disappoint him.

"Well…we're awfully low on food, so we're going to have to figure out a way to get more. We need better shelter, more insulated that's a must. We can't have our people freezing to death." Merle's cheeks flushed beneath her fur as his thoughtful gaze never wavered from her face. The intensity of it made the fur on her legs tingle and stand on end. She hurried to continue.

"I think that we should contact some of our allies, ask them for resources. It would be good for them too, right? Because of the relationship building thing?" She plowed on, unaware of the few workers that had begun to gather around the fire. "Then we should ask for sanctuary just in case we need it for the winter. Most Fanelians are likely staying in various countries until we get fully re-built. We'll need a way to send them messages to let them know how we're doing….and oh yeah, we should think about having an emergency plan." Van looked confused.

"Emergency? For what?" Merle looked at him blue eyes piercing through him. She lowered her voice.

"To get everyone out if we need to." He glared up at her.

"I'm not leaving Fanelia!" He ground out, posture grown tense. Merle stayed silent, worried that she had taken too many liberties with her 'advice'.

"You'd best be listening to yer friend yer majesty. She speaks wisely." Merle turned and was shocked to see most of their group surrounding them, Peter being the one who had spoken. Merle glanced at Van. She knew that his people, his country were the most important to him, and that he would do anything to their benefit. That he might have too much pride to know when to give up. She decided to take a chance.

"Lord Van, we should have a meeting! Everyone could say what they want, vote on it…"

"This isn't a democracy." His voice was firm, and she knew that he feared being outnumbered, losing his authority. If he lost it now, the people would fall apart. They needed him and he needed them.

"I know," she said softly, "but we're all here. Don't you think we all deserve a say?"

He looked at her then, and the directionless hurt look in his eyes pierced her heart. He raised his chin just a little before nodding grimly at her.

"A meeting. Right. I call a meeting tonight after work is finished, to discuss our future prospects here in the capital city, and for all of Fanelia." Many of those loitering by them nodded their head. "I want everyone to think of what is important to them, and we will address all your concerns. As your King I want what is best for everyone both now and in the future."

Those words struck a chord in Merle, chiming softly against an almost forgotten memory…

She thought back, and reasoned that she must have been just three rotations or so, a tiny kitten living in the overcrowded children's shelter on the outskirts of Fanelia. Her hair had been very pale then, almost white with the faintest tinge of pink. Her cheeks burned from the scrubbing she had just received from the nursemaid. They were expecting a visitor, the nursemaid had said. A very important one.

A carriage had pulled up, and the most beautiful lady Merle had ever seen stepped from the splendour of the royal carriage onto their modest dirt ground. Merle held her breath as the beautiful angel swept gracefully towards the shelter. The children were told to go play once the lady had entered the building. Intensely curious, the small kitten crept after the beautiful lady instead of following the other children. She was careful to avoid the two boards in the parlour room which were apt to squeak when tread upon.

Silently, she popped behind the cabinet in the parlour where the fine china was kept. The ornate designs carved into the solid wood were beautiful, but Merle's attention was drawn to a very different beauty. She peered around the corner to study the lady. She was tall with dark hair and porcelain skin. Her dress was simple, but even a little girl like Merle could see the commanding presence surrounding this lady like the haze that formed around the nearby pond each morning.

The Lady was murmuring to the Headmistress of their establishment.

"Of course King Goau and I will provide whatever assistance we can to these children."

"Thank-you milady," Merle heard the plump headmistress intone.

Something flashy caught Merle's eye. It was about the length of her hand and skinny. It dangled limply from one of the folds of the Lady's dress. Merle watched it, mesmerized by its movements and the way light was thrown off of it.

Merle liked shiny things. They reminded her of the beautiful necklace her mother had worn before….before what? She couldn't remember anything except the necklace and a feeling of all encompassing sadness. Then the shelter. No link in between.

The orange kitten inched forward stealthily, stalking her prey like a master hunter. In one swift movement, she snatched the shiny object and darted to the door.

The cries of the Headmistress assured her that she would be in deep trouble later, but for now Merle was searching for a place to hide and examine her treasure. The swishing of skirts were closing in on her, and Merle tried to run away, but her chubby little legs failed her. She was snatched up into a tight embrace.

Merle hissed and spat, scratching at her captor relentlessly. The arms remained solid, unwilling to let her go. As she realized her defeat, she began to sob, huge hiccupping heaves. She cried every last tear out of her body, not even really knowing why.

A soft hand began to stroke her face, caressing it lovingly. A gentle voice murmured into her ear;

"Beautiful girl, you must feel so alone." And just like that, Merle was clutching to the same skirts she had been opposed to just a moment before. They had sunken to the ground, and Merle looked into the eyes of the beautiful lady, wary.

The eyes that met hers were kind, loving.

"I have a little boy just a little older than you. Would you like to meet him?"

"No!" Merle was scared. Did the lady want to take her away because she stole the shiny object? Would she be locked up in a tower? She had heard stories where they did that to young girls.

"Okay, you don't have to." The voice was soothing, rising and falling in tone.

Merle heard the clacking steps that meant the Headmistress had caught up to them. She looked up and saw the outrage in her eyes. Merle lowered her head guiltily.

"I'm very sorry your majesty, young Merle here is always getting into so much mischief. You can rest assured that she will be properly punished for her crime." Merle hung her three year old head, fat tears threatening to glob down her cheeks. The lady stood up, keeping a hand on Merle's fluffy hair as she did so.

"Tell me Headmistress, what happened to this child's parents." Merle looked up, curious, but only saw a small shake of the head from the Headmistress. The lady knelt down and looked into Merle's baby blue eyes.

"Did you like my nail file?" She asked, holding the shiny pink object out for Merle to see. Merle wondered what a nail file was for. She nodded her head. "Well," the lady continued, "I have a deal for you. You can have my nail file in exchange for coming to live in my home."

Merle looked at the lady suspiciously. Why would she want her in her home? It was very confusing. But the nail file _was_ very shiny…Merle hesitated. Finally she nodded.

"Your majesty!" The Headmistress exclaimed, as the Lady Varie handed the small trinket to the wretched little catgirl.

"This child has had a hard life. She deserves to be happy and free. I want what is best for her now and in the years to come."

Merle pondered that memory for a few moments. There were days when she had forgotten the fortunate instance that had led to her happiness and salvation. And to Van. Varie had been her saviour that day. Merle always wondered why she did not chastise her for stealing.

Van had always wanted to be a strong, sensible King like his father had been. But Merle saw more of his mother in him; gentle and kind and always reassuring. Certainly, he was still very insecure at times, but each of them was still growing up, still learning what it meant to be alive.

"Hello? Merle? You in there somewhere?" The voice that was capable of wakening her at a whisper was calling.

"Lord Van?" She shook her head, bringing herself to the present. She noticed that the crowd had mostly dissipated to accomplish some of their work for the day.

"You just spaced out for a bit." Merle flushed a little.

"I did not!"

"Airhead."

"Hsssss."

They stared at each other for a moment, before bursting out into undignified giggles.

"Well, I better get to work. Otherwise people will start calling me lazy." Van stood up, face flushed healthily with the remnants of a grin. Merle smiled inwardly.

"See you at the meeting!" Merle chimed, and scampered away from him. There had been a time where she could not be away from _her_ Lord Van, even for a short, reasonable time. But Merle had done some growing when Hitomi was on Gaea. She saw how very independent the other girl strove to be, and saw that women did not necessarily _have _to rely upon men. She knew that she would see him later on, and that she would survive without his presence. That would be enough.

Merle felt giddy as she worked through the day. The sun was shining, beating down any negative thoughts she may have been inclined to have. A smile lit her lips, and she even took the time to play with some of the younger children in the chalk-coloured ruins of the streets. The sun made everything seemed bleached white, but for once, Merle didn't lament the lack of colour.

"Merle!" She looked up from her play, seeing Gertrude rushing towards her, a wicker basket in her hands. "Can you take this down to the river? I forgot to put my laundry in with everyone else's today, and I'm trying to watch the food that's cooking and the men that keep trying to eat my food and I just –"

"Gertrude, I'll take it down. Take a chill pill." Gertrude looked at her blankly. Merle grinned weakly. "It's just…an expression?" Gertrude didn't seem to be listening as she shoved the basket into the Cat's hands and turned back toward the shelter to begin yelling at a worker who had 'accidentally' gotten half a loaf of bread in his mouth.

Merle made a mental note to really think about the figures of speech she had picked up from Hitomi.

She began to hum as she followed the sunlit streets that would lead her to the river. The Capital City of Fanelia had a river on its outskirts: usually used by local farmers for agricultural purposes. Now, it was their main source of water for drinking and cleaning.

Merle barely paid attention to her surroundings as she walked. She saw the buildings that had been savaged by Zaibach, but no longer felt hate. All she saw was the whitewashed buildings. They were a little dazzling, reflecting the sunlight straight into her eyes.

Because of this, she didn't notice the figure directly in front of her until she had collided solidly with it.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The voice leered as Merle gasped in surprise.

"Watch where you're going would you!" Typically, Merle tried to pin the accident on the other party, and tried to step around his bulky form. He grabbed her wrist.

"What's a pretty little thing like you going out all by yourself, hm? And in the ruins of Fanelia no less."

Merle hissed and dropped the basket. Her tail stuck out on end, and she was prepared to scratch the eyeballs right out of the sockets of this bastard. Whoever he was.

"Whoa ho! No need to get all uppity little lady. I'm just a poor man meself, curious as to the goings on in the areas I wander."

"Let me go!" Merle cried, getting more frantic as he tightened his grip on her wrist. He seemed to think about it for a minute.

"I don't think so." Dumfounded at such an answer, Merle forgot to struggle.

"Why not?"

"Because if I let you go, you'll run away. I want to chat."

"What kind of a Pillager are you anyway?" Merle asked, now staring at him openly. He was quite a bit taller than Merle, with sandy hair and warm brown eyes. A face that was Fanelian, yet not Fanelian.

"Not what you were expecting?"

"Um, well I don't know, I just – HEY! You let go of me right this second!" Merle resumed her hissing and scratching. The man just bore it silently, flinching only when she began to go for the tiny spaces in between his fingers. His grasp was relentless, unavoidable. Once she stopped to take a breath, he spoke again.

"So…you never answered my question." Merle glared daggers at him. Icy, needle-like daggers. With poison tips and serraded edges.

"What?" She ground out at last, when it was certain that he would not speak first. He smiled as if they were old friends having a perfectly jovial conversation over tea.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" Merle raised an eyebrow at his familiar tone. Both eyebrows went up in her effort, and she sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just trying to take this laundry to the river." He regarded her thoughtfully.

"You know, it's not safe to be wandering the ruins of a decimated city by yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind. Right next to _never talk to strangers_."

He chuckled at her comment.

"Fair point. I haven't introduced myself. My name's Gareth. Now I'm not a stranger. We could even be friends, you and I."

"Friends don't usually hold friends captive. It destroys the friendship." Merle tried to warm her glaring daggers, just a bit. If it meant she'd get away, she was prepared to do her worst: smile at him. But for now, a light glare would do.

"True." He seemed to deliberate for a moment, then released her. Merle snatched the basket off the ground, and took off for the river. His laughter haunted her all the way there.

Merle sat on the riverbank, giving the launderers a hand. There was no way she was heading back through the city by herself! She thought about how helpless she had been. She hated feeling like her life was in someone else's hands.

By the time the group was ready to head back to the city, clean clothes in baskets, ready for hanging, Merle was decided. Tomorrow she was going to begin lessons in swordplay, with or without Van.


End file.
